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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24185929">(You know how to calm down) The Panic in Me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/raiyana/pseuds/raiyana'>raiyana</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works &amp; Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Miscommunication</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 00:01:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,594</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24185929</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/raiyana/pseuds/raiyana</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Fortress of Amon Lanc has been invaded by Shadow... but not unopposed; the Elves of Mirkwood might no longer call it home, but they would not let it fall into the hands of evil either.<br/>A force was sent south - but those who tried to defend the ancient home did not return unscathed.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Meludir (Hobbit Movies)/Original Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Hurt Comfort Exchange 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>(You know how to calm down) The Panic in Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narya_Flame/gifts">Narya (Narya_Flame)</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For Narya, whose love for these two idiots made me write more of them XD</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Please breathe… </em>
</p><p>Biting his lip, Meludir stared at the sleeping face beside him, his own heart hammering in a chest that seemed too tight for him to draw breath.</p><p>Nestor breathed slowly.</p><p>Then he blinked, soft sleepiness giving way to confusion as he stared at Meludir.</p><p>Meludir tried to school his face, but he knew he couldn’t fool Nestor. The healer in the bed knew him too well.</p><p>“Watching me sleep isn’t going to help me heal any faster,” Nestor pointed out mildly. “You should get some rest, dearest.”</p><p>“I was sleeping,” Meludir admitted sheepishly, shifting slightly on the chair he’d set beside Nestor’s bed.</p><p>An eloquent eyebrow rose, those golden eyes glancing at his uncomfortable seat as Nestor’s slim lips twitched with the beginnings of a smile.</p><p>“But not restfully,” Nestor replied gently, lifting a hand to run his thumb beneath Meludir’s eye. “Go to your bed.”</p><p>“But…” Meludir sighed, closing his eyes as he leaned into the hand that cupped his face so gently.</p><p>“I’m fine,” Nestor said, though they both knew that was a lie; only possible because Iuleth had given him highly concentrated potions for the pain.</p><p>Meludir winced.</p><p>“I <em>will</em> be fine,” Nestor amended, “but I would feel better if I knew you were well-rested.”</p><p><em>But I can’t stop dreaming about you dying a hundred different ways</em>.</p><p>Meludir didn’t offer his protests, lips clamped tight to prevent the words escaping, but he thought Nestor might have seen an echo of his distress in his eyes when his expression softened.</p><p>“I’ll be back to stealing your blankets in no time at all,” Nestor smiled, which didn’t help at all. “Go to bed, my sweet.”</p><p>He might not like sleeping alone anymore, but sleeping alone somewhere he couldn’t easily see that Nestor was still alive… Meludir smiled tightly, getting up from the chair he had specifically chosen for its discomfort, and bent to kiss Nestor’s forehead.</p><p>“I will return in the morning, love,” he murmured.</p><p>He didn’t make it farther than the other side of the door to the healing halls, sinking down to rest against the rough stone wall.</p><p>He hadn’t promised to go back to their rooms after all.</p><p>Settling his back against the wall, Meludir waited for the coming of dawn.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>The dead lay among the soot-stained stones that had once been towering spires overlooking the vast forest, darkened by more than age and weather.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The dead… it was a strange thought, to Meludir, who had been born well after the late King Oropher had caused the death of so many elves. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Death had always been in the forest; but it was a known entity – orcs would raid, or accidents take those unlucky or careless in their endeavours. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>This was not known.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Except that it was, some said, eyes haunted by an older grief still felt in the bones and roots of the world.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The Shadow.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The Shadow that walked in the bodies of dead elves, drinking up the terror and anguish of the living, devouring all light it touched.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The Shadow dwelled now in the ruins atop Amon Lanc. No longer would it be the Tower of Joy, no.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The dead lay among the tumbled ruins of Dol Guldur, named so in hushed whispers of fear, for it had become a place of dark sorcery, and none dared go in to claim them.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Even the bravest feared what might be found in such a place. </em>
</p><p>
  <em><br/>
Or what wouldn’t.</em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>“You’re <em>hurt</em>, Nestor, stop pretending you’re fine!” Meludir shouted, his voice echoing against the stone walls.</p><p>“I’m <em>alive</em>, aren’t I?” Nestor replied, but he didn’t look at Meludir when he spat the words into the air between them. “<em>I’m fine</em>. Go away and stop pestering me – I’m more than old enough to know what I’m doing.”</p><p>Nestor didn’t say <em>‘unlike you’</em>, but Meludir thought he might as well have.</p><p>“…!” Throwing up his hands in frustration, Meludir whirled, stalking away from the recalcitrant healer he <em>loved</em>.</p><p>When Nestor wasn’t being, to use one of the Lakemen’s phrases, <em>a right asshat</em>, that is.</p><p><em>I’m not too young for you, you stubborn fool</em>, he thought viciously, letting the door slam behind him, <em>even though you still seem to think I’ll up and leave eventually.</em></p><p>Right now, he couldn’t claim not to be tempted. For a moment, he imagined leaving his post in the Guard and returning to the small hamlet by the River Gate where he’d grown up. He knew himself well enough to know that the only way he’d truly manage not to be looking at Nestor like a lovesick youth would be to not see him at all.</p><p>But Meludir refused to run away, the stubborn streak he’d always had – the reason he’d come to the Halls at all – rearing its head once again.</p>
<hr/><p>As soon as Meludir left, Nestor sank down onto one of the pallets reserved for patients, groaning at the agony of his side.</p><p>“He’s right to be angry,” Iuleth said, her voice gentle. “You aren’t nearly as well as you claim, old friend.”</p><p>“Don’t you start,” Nestor hissed at her. “There’s no need for Meludir to worry.” He lay back to allow Iuleth’s competent hands to check the bandages covering half his torso.</p><p>“He cares for you – and he is not the only one,” Iuleth replied firmly, and Nestor knew that if her temper had carried a petty streak he would have hurt a lot more when her hands glided over his flesh, searching for any alarming swelling. “You might have died, Nestor.”</p><p>“I didn’t, though, did I?” Nestor challenged, guilt settling like a lump in his throat when Iuleth winced.</p><p>“No, you did not,” she agreed, patting down a fresh layer of bandaging, her voice cool but even. The hurt was only visible in her eyes because he knew her so well.</p><p>“I didn’t mean…” Nestor tried, faltering. “I apologise.”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>She didn’t have to tell him she wasn’t the only one he owed an apology.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>Meludir did not return that day, and Nestor thought that hurt almost as much as the deep gashes that had split the flesh over his ribs and continued down his hip and most of his left leg. Meludir had a right to be fearful; the wound could so easily have been fatal.</p><p>Without someone to be strong for – Iuleth didn’t count; she knew too well the nature of injuries to be fooled by any act he might put on – Nestor found himself wallowing in his bed, wishing that he’d been less harsh in his dismissal. The pain was bad, but he could deal with it if he could keep his mind occupied. Talking to Meludir was the best way he knew to keep himself centred; Meludir was so different to him that there was always some aspect of his mind to discover, no matter how well Nestor thought he knew him.</p><p>He loved the young elf, and he knew he’d been wrong to take out his pain and frustration on Meludir. How often had he counselled his patients against that very thing, after all? But he hated seeing the echoes of fear in those soft brown eyes, the lines that hadn’t been there before he had gone with the soldiers and come back covered in bandages.</p><p>Blowing a piece of hair off his face, Nestor grimaced at himself. Meludir had lost friends, too, among the stones of Dol Guldur, he knew, and still he had acted like his need for reassurance that Nestor wouldn’t be counted on the rolls of the dead was an inconvenience at best.</p><p>He really was a terrible lover.</p><p>“I am a grouch and I don’t deserve him,” he muttered under his breath.</p><p>“I mightn’t go that far,” Iuleth replied sagely, arriving unseen with a cup of overly sweet tea that didn’t hide the bitterness of its numbing ingredients. “You just…” she paused, but Nestor was more than capable of imagining the words she didn’t say. “We both know that healers make the worst patients.”</p><p>Her smile was tired; they had assistants – and the King had ordered a few more to help with the general tasks of running the halls – but Iuleth was the one who made medicines, decided on treatments and cared for those lucky enough to have come back at all.</p><p>“I wish I could be of more help,” Nestor said, reaching out to squeeze her hand gently. When he could stand for longer than it took to walk to the necessary and relieve himself, he would take on some of her duties.</p><p>“Get yourself well again and you can,” Iuleth said, holding out the gently steaming cup of tea, her smile taking an edge of amusement at the look on his face when he accepted it.</p><p>Nestor grimaced, swallowing the brew in as few mouthfuls as possible; his wounds might have been lines of fire at the movements, but he deserved to feel that pain, he thought.</p><p>“Some day, I will make a pain reliever that is actually palatable,” he swore.</p><p>“Our patients will thank you, I’m sure,” Iuleth laughed as she headed to the next patient, pouring the tea into his mouth with gentle care.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>He was running – always, in the dreams, he was running – feet pounding against the stone floor of the corridor, heart hammering wildly in his chest, a strangled cry stuck in his throat.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He was running, running, passing a blur of faces that never seemed important enough to notice.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He noticed only one face, too pale beneath the golden skin, too bruised.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And much, much too still.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Nestor…” he called, pushing past other bodies, other people. “Nestor, I’m here, love, I’m here, you’re home.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>But there would be no answer, and he knew it. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Blood dripped from limp fingers, pooling on the floor, soaking the pallet they’d left him on. Golden eyes stared at nothing, clouded over as the face had frozen into a rictus of agony.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Nestor was far too still where he lay.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Too dead.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Nestor!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The cry wrenched from his throat in a scream as he crashed to his knees, trying to catch hold of the body that was fading too rapidly to touch, fading into a nightmarish vision of darkness and despair and cold unfeeling death. </em>
</p><p>Meludir sobbed, curling in on himself, until the images that plagued him lifted slightly, enough for him to recognise the hallway that led to the Halls of Healing.</p><p>To Nestor.</p><p>He bit his lip – Nestor had asked him not to hover so, and Meludir had tried, really, he had… but the dreams haunted him even in the waking hours – glancing at the closed door carved in a pattern of interwoven vines and flowers that he had seen so often lately he thought he could draw it from memory.</p><p>Meludir slowly got to his feet, hesitating by the doorway for uncountable moments before he watched his fingers curl around the cherrywood handle.</p>
<hr/><p>“If you’re going to sit there all night you might as well make yourself useful,” Nestor said, cracking one eye open as Meludir started, dropping the chair he had been moving with a loud clatter that made them both wince.</p><p>“I just…” Meludir said, glancing furtively at the door to the healer’s quarters.</p><p>“Just Meludir, Iuleth,” Nestor called, pitching his voice to carry though it remained low enough to avoid waking most patients.</p><p>The door remained closed, and Nestor breathed a sigh of relief; Iuleth needed her rest, too, and he’d finally managed to get her to leave the halls for a few hours on his sworn word that he’d wake her up if any of the patients needed tending.</p><p>“Aranor over there,” Nestor said, lifting his good arm to point at an elf who only had one good arm left, “he’ll need some more soothing tea soon – you remember which packet it is?”</p><p>Meludir nodded, though he looked adorably confused as he righted the chair.</p><p>“They brought hot water from the kitchens a little while ago,” Nestor said. “Go make up a pot – and be liberal with the honey, too.”</p><p>Meludir went, his hands steady and careful as he picked up the packet tied with a purple bit of string, letting the tea steep for one hundred slow breaths as Nestor had shown him years before.</p><p>“Good.” Closing his eyes, Nestor followed the nigh-inaudible steps of Meludir moving across the room, gently waking the injured soldier enough to ensure that he did not choke on the warm tea before letting him sink back into the healing sleep.</p><p>“I am no healer, Nestor,” Meludir muttered, crossing his arms across his chest as he sat down.</p><p>Nestor smiled.</p><p>“Did you get the rest I asked you to find?” he asked, opening his eyes again to study his love.</p><p>Meludir winced; the dark circles beneath his eyes would give lie to any denial and it was clear he knew as much.</p><p>Nestor half-sighed.</p><p>“Me neither,” he admitted softly. “I find I sleep better when you’re near, too.” The confession came far more easily than it might have a moon’s turn earlier, and Nestor winced at the thought. He really hadn’t appreciated Meludir as he should have, he knew, vowing to do better in future.</p><p>“<em>You kicked me out</em>,” Meludir growled, leaning in close enough the words were barely more than an angry whisper.</p><p>“I apologise – I should not have taken my frustrations out on your skin,” Nestor whispered, lifting his good hand to brush his knuckles against Meludir’s cheek. “I am sorry.”</p><p>“<em>Spirits</em>, Nestor!” Meludir hissed, gripping the hand tightly and pressing Nestor’s palm against his cheek. “I… I might have lost you!”</p><p>“I promise to continue to vex you for centuries to come, my sweet,” Nestor said, turning his hand until he could grip Meludir’s tugging gently. “But I still don’t want you sleeping on that hard chair. Get up.”</p><p>“<em>…You…</em>”</p><p>“<em>Come here, Meludir</em>,” Nestor asked, tugging again before Meludir had the chance to explode in a fit of temper. He had managed to move himself in spite of the fiery pain running down his limbs.</p><p>“Wha-”</p><p>“I sleep better with you here, too,” Nestor repeated, tugging on Meludir’s captive hand once more. “And if you won’t sleep where you can’t see me,” he added, “it’s clear I’ll have to keep an eye on you to ensure that you’re adequately rested. Now <em>come here</em>.”</p><p>Feeling the mattress dip with Meludir’s weight, a familiar sensation Nestor had missed more than he dared to admit, he heard the equally familiar thump of two boots hitting the floor, and then Meludir’s long lankiness <em>finally</em> joined him.</p><p>Except he lay there, almost falling off the edge of the bed, as stiff as a board.</p><p>Nestor sighed.</p><p>Turning himself slightly, he ignored his bad side’s protests in favour of moving his head from the pillow to rest on Meludir’s shoulder, feeling the breath whoosh out of his lover at the familiar contact.</p><p>“I won’t break,” Nestor murmured, almost surprised to find Meludir’s soft lips steal the words before they were properly spoken, Meludir himself softening into the kiss until his body was pressed against Nestor’s good side fully, the blanket tucked up round his shoulders.</p><p>“<em>You’re alive</em>.”</p><p>“I love you.”</p><p>“I love you, too.” Meludir sighed contentedly, burrowing into the bed like he always did, clearly more than half asleep by the way he slurred.</p><p>Nestor’s smile grew into a slight chuckle, and then he joined his love on the Path of Dreams, letting himself rest properly for the first time since he’d been brought back to the Halls of Healing.</p>
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